


Will You Let Me?

by ElloPoppet



Series: Cross My Heart (Add it to the List) [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Clint Barton, Light Angst, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Nail Polish, So fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17367035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElloPoppet/pseuds/ElloPoppet
Summary: "“I want to do something, for you. Will you let me?”Clint nearly made a joke about not being up for a blow job, not even from his boyfriend, but stopped himself when he noticed the look in Bucky’s eyes. It was searching and vulnerable, his eyes open a touch wider than usual.He's scared,Clint realized, heart squeezing in his chest. Bucky wasscared."





	Will You Let Me?

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't going to write this, because I don't do established relationship fics. However, I quite literally could not stop thinking about these two scenes in my head. I tried to keep it short and sweet. 
> 
> This can be read as a standalone, but would probably be much more enjoyable if read after Well, I Guess it Would be Nice (first fic in this short lil series), as there are references sprinkled throughout. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

“I fucking hate you, ya know that? Hate. You.”

Bucky’s actions betrayed his words as he treated Clint with gentle hands, nudging Clint over in the slim hospital bed in order to make enough room to slide in beside him. Clint helped as much as possible, using what little strength he had in his arms to hoist himself a few inches to the right before turning over onto his side. The discomfort in both of his cracked kneecaps (well, one was cracked, the other was...what had the doc said...shattered?) made him whimper, but as soon as Bucky pressed his chest against Clint’s back and curled around him, Clint nearly forgot about his pain. 

“You’re a terrible liar,” Clint said, throat dry and words crackling. Bucky responded with a hum.

“What’d you have to go and mess yourself up for?” Bucky whispered a few minutes later, flesh fingers idly drawing figure-8s on Clint’s chest over his hospital gown. “Tony was right there, woulda caught ya.” 

Clint shook his head, his aid nearly rubbed out of his ear against the pillow by the action. “No. I don’t know. He might’ve, but I.” Clint paused and reached up, covering Bucky’s hand on his chest with his own, over his heart. “I’m kind of invested in living through these dumbass missions now. I guess trying to be a little less reckless still results in the same outcome, huh? That’s some bullshit.”

Bucky fell quiet for a few minutes, and Clint had nearly drifted off to sleep when Bucky’s voice cut through the haze of unconsciousness. 

“Were you not as invested a year ago?”

Clint smiled at the tone of Bucky’s voice, somewhat teasing and somehow insecure at the same time. What a dork.

“Would you have plastered yourself to another human body a year ago?” Clint teased back. 

Bucky snorted. “Stop. You know the answer.”

“And so do you, don’t play coy with me, babe.”

Bucky made a noise, a thoughtful little breath, and the next thing Clint knew he was waking up hours later in an empty hospital room. 

*

_Two Weeks Later_

“What percentage of my body do you think is fake at this point?” Clint asked as he handed his crutches over to Bucky before slowly easing himself down onto the couch in his apartment. The stitches from his surgery had already been removed but the scars running over both knees still pulled when he walked or sat. He resisted the urge to rap them with his knuckles to see if the replacement caps fabricated by Dr. Cho would make a sound. 

“At this point? Probably more than mine,” Bucky replied, motioning at his left arm with his right. Bucky laid the crutches on the ground parallel to the couch before grabbing Clint’s ankles and assisting him in swinging his legs onto the couch, stretching out over the entire length. Bucky brushed a light kiss to Clint’s cheek before plopping himself onto his knees beside the couch. 

“I want to do something, for you. Will you let me?”

Clint nearly made a joke about not being up for a blow job, not even from his boyfriend, but stopped himself when he noticed the look in Bucky’s eyes. It was searching and vulnerable, his eyes open a touch wider than usual. _He's scared,_ Clint realized, heart squeezing in his chest. Bucky was _scared_. 

“Of course you can, baby. Whatever you want.” Clint couldn’t keep the confusion out of his voice, nor could he keep from cocking his head to the side when Bucky pulled out two bottles of nail polish from his hoodie pocket. 

“Not quite what I expected.”

Bucky smiled, the worrisome expression melting from his face as he grasped one of Clint’s hands in his own, turning it palm down as he held Clint’s thumb steadily with his prosthetic. Clint watched as Bucky concentrated on spreading thick, black polish on his nail, using the tiny brush to go over and over the wet layer until the color was even enough for Bucky’s satisfaction. Bucky had never painted Clint’s nails before, though he often would sport polish on random fingers, if not all, himself, ever since last year’s charity ball. Clint loved it, and he found himself enjoying Bucky’s ministrations on his nails as well. 

A few minutes passed as Bucky worked and Clint closed his eyes, keeping his hand as steady as he could. The pain started to fizzle out in his knees and the warmth of Bucky being so close make him feel calm and serene. He nearly jumped when Bucky broke the silence. 

“Do you have any idea how hard it was to visit you in the hospital that first night, when you fucked up your legs? Before we got you to Dr. Cho?” Bucky’s voice was flat, very matter-of-fact, and Clint didn’t respond, though he did open his eyes to watch as Bucky continued to talk.

“They told me visiting hours were over. Said I couldn’t see ya if I wasn’t family.”

Clint’s heart fell. He hadn’t even thought of that, hadn’t wondered how Bucky had managed to get access into his room. The super soldier sniper that he was, Clint had just kind of figured that he had crept his way inside, unnoticed. 

“Well, that’s bullshit. Didja tell them that we were together?”

Bucky nodded and capped the first bottle of polish before uncapping the next. Clint barely paid attention to what Bucky was doing with his hands, too concentrated on the maelstrom of emotion fluttering across Bucky’s pretty face. 

“In a way, I guess. I. Well. I told them that we were married. Newlyweds, in fact.” Clint felt his eyes widen as he watched a gorgeous red blush creep across Bucky’s cheeks. “Gave ‘em my name as James Barton. I don’t think they believed me, but they didn’t fight me on it.”

 _”Gave ‘em my name as James Barton.”_ A clash of electric heat and unbearable giddiness raced up Clint’s spine at the sound of it and he sucked in a breath, the tightness in his throat making it impossible to release the air back from his lungs. 

Bucky didn’t say anything else, not until he capped the second bottle of nail polish a few minutes later, Clint struggling to breathe and control his heart rate all the while. Bucky leaned forward and gently blew on Clint’s fingers, and fuck if _that_ didn’t make Clint’s goosebumps a million times more severe. 

“What do you think?” Bucky asked finally, releasing Clint’s hands from his own. Dazed, Clint looked down and then did a double take, soaking up the sight of his freshly coated fingernails, all black aside from the middle finger on each hand, which shone a deep, rich purple. Clint cleared his throat. 

“They look real good, Buck. Pretty. Thank you.” He smiled at Bucky, who grinned back before leaning ever so slightly forward, laying his forehead against Clint’s. 

“So what do you think about black with a few splashes of purple? I think that would be a fair compromise,” Bucky said, whispering now, face too close for Clint to see clearly. 

Clint could have asked, but he knew. How could he forget that conversation, moments before they first kissed? It wasn’t every day that he talked about his wedding colors, after all. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Bucky pulled back a bit, until Clint could only see one of him instead of two, and the shock on his face was evident. 

“Really?”

Clint laughed. “Really. I don’t give a fuck about the colors, if I’m bein’ honest.”

Bucky shook his head minutely, back and forth. “No, Clint. I mean, just. You would? You’d marry me?”

Embarrassingly, tears threatened to well up in Clint’s eyes, and he wasn’t having any of _that_ , and so he simply shrugged as though his entire world had just been bathed in the brightest sunshine. 

“Why not? We haven’t added anything to the list in a while. It’s about time.”

It was meant to be a joke, so Clint laughed, the sound of which was swallowed nearly instantly by Bucky covering Clint’s mouth with his own as he tried to kiss him as lovingly as possible through his own impossibly wide grin.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to leave this series marked as incomplete because I'm fairly certain that I'll wind up writing a wedding day one off in the future...if that's something folks would be interested in?


End file.
